


When the Hydrangea Bloom

by heoneyology



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: F/M, Feudalism, Fluff, Hwarang, One Shot, Romance, hwarang!Sunwoo, soft romance, soldier!Sunwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27523282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heoneyology/pseuds/heoneyology
Summary: Kim Sunwoo is a soldier sent to your small mountain village to train with his platoon, like many soldiers from the Great King’s army before him. Yet unlike all the other soldiers that have passed through, Sunwoo’s heartfelt, yet slightly annoying, determination and handsome features are the first to catch your attention.
Relationships: Kim Sunwoo (The Boyz)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	When the Hydrangea Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the teasers originally released for Road to Kingdom.

_ Stay away from the soldiers. _

Those words became a mantra, over time. One you were expected to live by. Your father’s warning had been engraved in your mind over the years as you’d grown up. Your father was a strict man, though he had a tender heart shown only to those he cared for most dearly. Perhaps being born with two daughters had made him soft, over time. Luckily for him, neither you nor your sister were anything akin to troublemakers—although it could be argued that you were more of a headache than your older sibling. Sometimes, you’d often find yourself a little hot-headed and somehow in curious situations, due to your own impulsive actions and words. But you never really caused trouble. Not intentionally, anyway.

And so, this was the single rule your father ever expected you to follow— _ stay away from the soldiers. _

Your mother, amused, would always smile fondly whenever he would remind you and your sister of his instructions. He himself had been a soldier in his prime.  _ Clearly _ that warning had worked out well for her.

But he was regarded as a man with the knowledge of time on his side. The villagers were loyal. Almost undyingly so. They respected not only him, but his words and his decisions. He never seemed to lead anyone awry. As such, you figured his warning had to come with some unspoken knowledge that he refused to share. He had been a soldier, he knew what it was like—knew what  _ they  _ were like. Of course, there  _ was _ the possibility that he was simply being an overprotective father, too.

While that was the single rule your father put in place, expecting you and your sister to uphold it, there was one more mantra. Similarly to his warning about the soldiers, it had been repeated so often in such sporadic moments that it had done well to stick in your mind, but it often lingered at the back like a distant memory. But, sometimes, something would happen that would stir the memory, and the words would idly pass through your mind like a gentle breeze; a soft reminder.

_ If a boy looks like trouble, he most likely is. _

“How do you do that? Make those?” As if on cue, the voice of a specific boy who had been invading your thoughts for weeks now abruptly interrupts your concentration. Your fingers, nimbly working against the flower stems of the hydrangea bundle you hold in your hand, slip at the sudden invasion of your focus. Blinking, you tilt your chin back and lift your head to look up from where you sit.

Kim Sunwoo stares down at you, brown eyes bright with a curious wonder. The sunlight hits them, reflecting against his irises in such a way that has the warm color practically shimmering. He looks very boyish and innocent, and too curious for his own good.

“Can you teach me?” Sunwoo asks when you don't immediately answer. His eyes flicker from your face to the flower crown which you had been braiding that rests in your frozen hands, then back to meet your gaze.

A knot builds in your throat, your voice lodging there. You aren’t certain you can speak.  _ If a boy looks like trouble, he most likely is. Stay away from the soldiers. _ Your father’s second mantra and his golden rule are doing somersaults in your mind as you stare up at Sunwoo.

Kim Sunwoo happened to be  _ both  _ of those things. 

He was a boy that, through and through, looked like trouble. Anyone as pretty, yet just a little rough around the edges, as he was had to be the definition of trouble. He was always too curious—sticking his nose into things that he really shouldn’t, and getting reprimanded later on. Or, if he happened to get away with whatever he was up to, he was all smug grins and smirks. He was also, always, the loudest in a group. It happened to be an admirable thing, on some occasions, anyway—since it usually meant he was putting his all into whatever it was he may be doing. Yet putting his all into everything also meant that he made sure  _ everyone _ saw and heard his efforts. The way his eyes would light up with any praise showered on him afterward was a dead giveaway to his pride. This was especially noticeable during training or any tasks that required physical effort.

To round him out completely, it was the surprising tenderness that sometimes peeked through—paired with how pretty he was, and his rougher edges—that really spelled out trouble. He had a soft gaze that was always alight with mischief, pouty lips that would grace you with the softest smiles if he wasn’t being smug about something, and ruffled hair paired with a sharp jawline that gave away all his most attractive boyish features.

He was also the type of boy that your father specifically warned you, time and time again, to  _ stay away from. _ A soldier in the great king’s army. He wasn’t the first to visit your small mountain village. The army usually sent their soldiers here for training, where the altitude was higher and the air thinner—the terrain rough and challenging; a perfect combination to create sturdy, determined men.

While Sunwoo wasn’t the first to pass through, visiting until the training was complete and the platoon would return to the capital—he was, by far, the  _ most stubbornly persistent  _ that you’d dealt with. Or, rather, attempted to  _ not _ deal with. It didn’t help, either, that your interest had been accidentally piqued as soon as he’d arrived in the village. He was handsome, and always stood out in a crowd. Both things that were hard to ignore.

When you don’t answer, instead trying to busy yourself with the flower crown making, Sunwoo makes a point to sit down beside you. The action makes you stiffen, eyes darting up from the flowers and their stems to stare him straight in the eyes.

“W-What are you doing?” You stammer out.

Sunwoo nodded at the partially braided beginning of a crown in your hands. “I want to learn.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” His full lower lip juts out, pouting.

Clearing your throat, you turn away from him, glaring down at the flower strands in your hands in an attempt to concentrate. Maybe if you stare hard enough, you can block Sunwoo’s presence out.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” you state as your answer, matter-of-factly.

Undeterred, Sunwoo lets out what sounds like a chuckle, but you refuse to turn toward him to confirm the sound. “That’s fine. I’m a quick learner. Don’t speak, just show me and I’ll watch.”

You’re certain he’s joking, simply hanging around you for attention you won’t give. Or that he’s just trying to be like every other boy, attempting to impress a girl by learning a skill that will never be utilized—if they’re even lucky enough to actually learn it in the first place. However, minutes pass and Sunwoo’s presence doesn’t ease from your side. His sudden silence is almost threatening, since in the length of time that you’d known him—even watching from afar—he’d never been so quiet. Sitting next to him, you began to worry as to  _ why _ he was so quiet.  _ Maybe he’s fallen asleep… _

It’s plausible, in this mid-afternoon summer heat. The shade you sit beneath offers some protection from the sun beating down at its highest peak, but it’s the type of warmth that’s almost oppressive. Enough that you just want to let out a sigh and close your eyes against it, wishing it away. Even to you, a nap sounds nice.

But despite your curiosity, you refuse to look over at him. And despite your own determination, you find it hard to concentrate. For the most part, your fingers stay steady where they work against the stems of the similarly stubborn flowers which you’re threading together. But if you aren’t careful, you feel them begin to quaver—overly aware of a different type of warmth that Sunwoo emanates where he sits next to you. You aren’t sure if he’s watching, like he claimed he would. You don’t even dare to look at the basket of hydrangea next to you to see if he’s actually taken some to practice. But Sunwoo’s presence is quiet, yet strong—and it’s enough to cause a bit of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the possibility of him paying attention.

Luckily threading the flowers together is like second nature to you. The task at hand doesn’t need much concentration, it comes as easily as breathing without so much a thought. Which works in your favor, since more time than you’re able to properly keep track of passes, and you spend most of that time in your own thoughts reminding yourself to keep your hands steady and not slip up in front of him. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated the reminder to yourself, creating a mantra of your own, before the silence between you and Sunwoo is broken.

“Sunwoo!”

At the sound of his name, both you and Sunwoo jerk your heads up. Briefly, in that moment, your eyes meet his, and you see the corner of his mouth twitch into a small half-smile before he glances over his shoulder, searching for the owner of the voice that has called him. As he turns, you peer around his broad frame curiously, spotting another soldier in the distance—the fair-skinned boy seems to be around Sunwoo’s age, maybe older. He has a high, prominent nose, and very soft features. You think his name may be Hyunjae, if you remember correctly.

Hyunjae takes note of you as soon as you appear from around Sunwoo, and his eyes raise in surprise. But his gaze doesn’t linger, instead returning to Sunwoo. “Break’s over! Captain is calling for you!”

Sunwoo gives a curt nod, which is enough to send Hyunjae on his heel and away. Before Sunwoo turns back to you, you straighten yourself up, glancing down at your almost completed crown and fiddling with some of the flower petals gently. There’s a brief moment of silence, before Sunwoo clears his throat and you hear the shifting of his robes.

“Thank you,” he says, causing you to glance up in surprise. You feel a knot build up in your throat again, ready to ask  _ for what _ , since you hadn’t uttered a word to him this entire time—but as you make eye contact with him, the question lodges itself as the knot in your throat. He gives a small smile. “I’m going to take some of the flowers, okay? You can grade me on how well I do tomorrow.”

You think he’s kidding—again—until you see in one of his hands, as he reaches down to take a handful of the hydrangea from your basket, that the flower crown he’d been working on is almost half complete. It takes all of your self control to keep from showing the surprise on your face, glancing up at Sunwoo as he gives you another smile and takes his flowers and half-made crown and leaves.

When he’s gone and out of earshot, you let out a large sigh, as though you’d been holding your breath the entire time while in his company, before you set back to work. However, you find that there’s a very obvious emptiness in the space around you, having not realized you’d grown comfortable with Sunwoo's nerve-wracking presence, and you end up gathering your belongings and heading home for the day.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“If you keep sighing, you’re going to age prematurely,” Hyunjae scolds, taking a sip of the green tea at the table in front of him. With how hot it was outside, even so early in the day, Sunwoo often wondered how Hyunjae could drink hot tea as a main staple of his diet daily.

Letting out another sigh despite Hyunjae’s warning, Sunwoo allows himself to fall back, collapsing on the porch of the hanok. The loud  _ thump _ caused by Sunwoo landing on the wood of the porch is enough to have some of the other soldiers eating their morning meal glancing over curiously, before returning their focus to their food.

_ “Sunwoo,”  _ Hyunjae warns, voice lowering dangerously, as the younger lets out another large sigh, where he lays and stares up at the porch awning dejectedly. The younger had been sulking since lunch the day before. Hyunjae had a guess as to why, but he wasn’t concerned enough to press further.

Although now, with every sulky sigh Sunwoo let out, Hyunjae could feel his annoyance building.

“She says she can’t talk to me,” Sunwoo mumbles, a pout clear in his tone of voice.

Hearing the words, Hyunjae uncomfortably swallows around the mouthful of green tea he’d decided to drink at that time, choking around laughter. He fails to keep all the tea in his mouth, spraying some across the table as he laughs.

_ “She what?!” _

Scowling, Sunwoo sits up abruptly, giving his older friend a hard look. “This isn’t  _ funny _ ! Why would she say something so absurd? That was the most I’ve said to her! I usually just say, ‘hello,’ in passing! How could I have offended her into telling me she  _ can’t speak to me _ ?!”

Hyunjae coughs a few more times around the tea that had gone down wrong, before clearing his throat. “Maybe she just thinks you’re insufferably loud? You know, like the rest of us do?” He quirks a brow pointedly as he says this, eyeing Sunwoo. “Half the village can hear your war cries when we’re training, you know. Maybe that’s all she needed in order to decide she couldn’t talk to you.”

Sunwoo frowns at Hyunjae, clearly displeased by the older boy’s words. Despite the displeasure, though, it’s clear that the words resonate with him enough to get him thinking for the rest of the day. While he’s not distracted, able to go through all of the required training regimen as though it were muscle memory—which, at this point, it basically is—his mind is a silent whirlwind of thoughts. For the first time ever, Sunwoo finds himself suddenly uncertain of his own levels of self-confidence and the way he presents himself. Had it always been an issue before now? Was it bothersome to others? Was he a nuisance?

Throughout the day, there’s a hard look of deep thought and determination set on Sunwoo’s face. His already strong features appear stronger, especially with the way his jaw is hardened and set and his brows furrow together. To others, it seems like deep concentration. But even from afar, watching Sunwoo train the day away until he’s practically dripping in sweat by the mid-afternoon, when the sun is at its highest point, you can tell that something seems  _ off _ about him today.

The thought that he may not be feeling well has you running back to the edge of town, towards home, as best as you can in the summer heat and weight of your hanbok. Your mother, tending the garden outside, is surprised to find you practically drenched in sweat yourself, and is about to complain to you—but before she can, you disappear into the house and shuffle around the kitchen, creating a bit of noise and a mess in a whirlwind of your own, before you’re running out of the house with the same speed at which you appeared; almost like a mirage.

You think you hear your mom yell after you,  _ “Where are you going?!” _ And your sister’s complaint about taking some of her jellied candies, but you pay neither any mind as you run back in the direction you came.

It takes hours to finally find Sunwoo away from a crowd, much to your annoyance. Despite his unusually dreary mood of the day, he seems even more dedicated than normal to his usual daily tasks. Which leads to a day of you hovering from afar, shifting the wooden box you’d claimed from home from hand to hand.

When Sunwoo finally does detach himself from his fellow soldiers to take a break, you aren’t surprised that he chooses to rest beneath the tree from the day before, practically collapsing onto the grassy knoll. He removes the headband from his forehead, running his fingers through his hair and wiping away some sweat with his sleeve, before letting out a sigh and closing his eyes, soaking in the shade.

You wait a few moments, shifting from foot to foot, before approaching his resting spot. He doesn’t notice your presence, despite your hanbok skirt shuffling and making enough noise. You end up crouching down in front of him, above his head, peering over him curiously to double check that he’s breathing still.

It takes a moment, but he ends up noticing a shift in the air around him. Maybe it’s the shadow you cast over his face as you lean over him, creating a darker shade than what the tree provides. Sunwoo’s eyelids twitch, but he doesn’t open them.

“Hyunjae, not now,” he grumbles.

You frown momentarily, before realization hits you as you think back to the fair-skinned boy the day before, Sunwoo’s friend. “Ah! So that is his name… Hyunjae…”

“Oh!” Immediately, Sunwoo’s eyes shoot open with a sound of surprise, followed by your name falling from his lips.

Coming from him, your name sound so sweet and smooth, and under normal circumstances you’d take a moment to admire it and the way your stomach flips—but as Sunwoo releases his surprise, he also simultaneously sits up in a rush—and doesn’t make it very far, his forehead connecting with your own—you being to slow to notice, distracted.

The two of you let out a yelp of surprised pain, in sync—Sunwoo immediately clutching his forehead and falling back to the ground on which he’d been laying, and your hand slapping across your forehead as you fall back on your butt into the grass. You pull your knees up to your chest, whimpering and burying your face into your knees.

At the sound of your whimper, Sunwoo clenches his teeth and instantly rolls over onto his knees giving his forehead one last rub before inching closer to you. “God, I’m so sorry—are you okay?” He reaches out to you, hands hovering uncertainly, before he rests them on your shoulders. “Look at me? Are you okay?”

You’d rather keep your head pressed against your knees to fend off the pain, face hidden against your skirts, but the way Sunwoo’s voice softens to something kinder, gently persuasive, has you grimacing and lifting your head to look at him. You jut your bottom lip out as you do so, sure there’s a red mark on your forehead from where your skulls had clashed, blinking away the tears of pain at the corners of your eyes.

Sunwoo frowns at the expression on your face, eyes flickering over your features to study you for any signs of further damage. You feel his hands lift from your shoulders to cup your face on either side. His thumbs gently swipe away the tears you’d attempted to blink back, and you’re surprised at how soft his touch is despite the slight calloused texture you can feel on his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Sunwoo murmurs, releasing his hold on your face and gently brushing some stray strands of hair away from your face. As he does so, he ghosts the back of his fingers over your forehead. “The good news is, I don’t think it will bruise.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sunwoo shrugs, leaning back and sitting in the grass. “It’s fine. Accidents happen,” he squints at you, “unless, that is, it wasn’t an accident and you were purposely planning a sneak attack to take me out? I am one of the best in our platoon, I wouldn’t be surprised if enemies are already making plans to dispose of me—”

Despite yourself, you snort out a small laugh at him.  _ He’s fine, _ you think silently, slightly relieved. When you see a smile cross over his features, you clear your throat, effectively clearing away the laughter and amusement.

“Do you like sweets?”

Sunwoo cocks his head to the side curiously. “Sweets?”

You study him, before shifting your position to reach for the portable lunch box you’d snatched from home. You push it toward him, and as you allow it to stop at a rest in front of him, you push yourself to your feet. “That’s for you. I thought…”  _ That you seemed like you were having a bad day. _ Your lips twitch, unsure if you should voice that aloud. “It’s just a pick me up for the rest of the day, in case you end up needing it again…”

Sunwoo glances curiously between you and the box, before a thought crosses his mind. “Ah! I didn’t finish the flower crown—”

You give a small shrug, folding your hands behind your back and twirling on your heel and slowly inching away. “That’s fine. I’m always here every day at lunchtime,” as you say this, you throw a smile over your shoulder. Before you lose your nerve, your stomach doing odd flips, you skip off.

Sunwoo bites his lip, biting back a grin. He glances at the box you’d left behind, running his hand over the intricate designs of the wood before slowly lifting the lid from the box. Inside, there are jellied candies and honey cookies, lining the box as though they had been carefully and delicately placed inside. His mouth waters just at the sight of the sweets.

_ Again? _ He wonders, suddenly, thinking back to your words as you’d left the box of sweets with him. Had you been able to figure out he had been in a different mood that day? Sunwoo glances up from the box, turning his head in the direction down the knoll you’d disappeared in.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The next morning, Sunwoo is in a comparatively better mood than he had been the day before. So much so that the humming that reverberates from the back of his throat is  _ almost _ as annoying as the sighing he’d been doing yesterday morning. This time, it’s Hyunjae’s turn to let out a very loud sigh as he sets his cup of tea down on the table, glancing over at where Sunwoo sits at the edge of the hanok porch, legs swinging back and forth.

In his lap sits the flower crown from days before. Sunwoo works quietly, besides his humming, as his thin long fingers work against the stems, folding and threading together the last bit of flowers.

“I’m assuming she doesn’t find you insufferably loud, like the rest of us?” Hyunjae asks. His question pulls Sunwoo out of his concentration, and the younger throws a grin over his shoulder.

That’s the only answer Hyunjae needs, and that’s the only answer Sunwoo gives.

But the way Sunwoo acts the rest of the day is enough to back up that simple answer for Hyunjae. He’s back to his overly loud and proud, borderline cocky, self—shouting up a riot during training, and, as always, putting in as much physical effort and exertion as he possibly can. But unlike the day before, where his eyebrows had been knitted together in deep thought and his jawline set, Sunwoo is all boyish and smug grins.

It’s enough that it has Hyunjae wondering if he’ll somehow alert enemies in the far distance to their location and bring invaders to the village.  _ That’s _ how loud he is.

As you watch him train from afar again that day, you have a similar thought process to Hyunjae. Sunwoo is terribly loud, enough so that he could easily alert an enemy to his location. Your lips twitch in amusement at this thought, thinking to the day before and how you’d snuck up on him with ease—although that hadn’t been on purpose in any aspect. Still, you’re relieved to see he’s back to normal.

The sound of footsteps against the grass of your knoll have you glancing up from your book. You know it’s not Sunwoo, though you feel your heart flutter in your chest at the prospect of it being him arriving early.

Instead, you meet your older sister’s eyes as she approaches you. She sets down the basket she’s carrying next to you in the grass, straightening up and giving a small huff. “Here’s the food you made this morning.”

You smile, seeing the slight annoyance visibly in the stiffness of her shoulders. “Thank you. And thank you for being a scapegoat for me. I’ll buy you some nice material for sewing next time we go to the city!”

Your sister scoffs, though she gives you a sideways glance. Her lips twitch slightly in amusement. “Father is going to be upset when he finds out.”

“I know.” But all you can do is give a shrug, reaching for your book and placing it back in your lap as you skim the pages to find where you had left off. Your sister  _ tsks _ before heading away. When some time passes, you glance up from the pages, staring off towards town, where your older sibling had promised to keep herself busy for a sufficient amount of time before heading home.  _ Surely she won’t tell Father? _

_ No, she wouldn’t. _ But either way, you’d reap the consequences at some point. In such a small village, there wasn’t a way to hide your daily interactions. Word that you’d been spending time with Sunwoo would naturally get around.

You’re about to let out a sigh when a darker shadow falls over you. Blinking, you spare a glance up. Sunwoo stands in front of you—as expected—but what isn’t expected is the pout that’s on his face, his full lower lip jutted out. He lets out a small huff as he meets your gaze, and you allow your eyes to flicker from his face to the unfinished flower crown in his hand.

You glance back up at him. “W...what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to  _ finish _ it,” Sunwoo grumbles, the tone of his voice clearly frustrated. He drops down to his knees next to you, holding the flower crown out. “Show me?”

You reach out, hands pausing in the air. You study the crown in his hands, surprised at how far along he’d come. Eyeing it, you’re amazed that he’d simply  _ watched _ and learned enough to make an almost perfectly knit crown. It didn’t appear to be loose anywhere, as though it would fall apart easily.

“I’ll teach you,” you decide suddenly, scooting forward a little. Gingerly, you take hold of one of his hands. Beneath your touch, you can feel Sunwoo stiffen in surprise, glancing up at you curiously, but immediately looking back down as you lead his hand to the edge of the stems, and help hold the crown with your other hand. “You have to lock this bundle in place here.” As you instruct him, you point and guide as necessary, watching as Sunwoo closes off the crown, mostly on his own.

You smile when he finishes, blinking up at him with a bit of pride written across your features. The expression catches him by surprise. But, more so than that, the proximity catches you both by surprise. For a moment, you feel stuck there, suspended by time as your gaze locks with his— _ stuck _ —the way his eyes shimmer causing your heart to lurch up from your chest into your throat.  _ Is that what that knot had been, every time you tried to speak to him before? _

Sunwoo clears his throat, leaning back and giving the flower crown a small twirl in his hand, before he smiles and lifts his piece of work up, setting it on the crown of your head. Instinctively, you shrink a bit under the weight being added to your head, before straightening up as Sunwoo leans back to admire his work. He has a broad smile on his face, and you reach up to gingerly run your hands over the petals.

“Perfect. It suits you.”

“Me?” You echo, blinking at him in surprise.  _ He learned to make it for me? _ You give your head a small shake, carefully lifting the crown up off of your head to give back to Sunwoo. “You should give it to someone that matters to y—”

Your words fall flat as they leave your mouth, catching sight of the flower crown in your hands. Purple and pink hydrangea swirl together in a circle, making up the contents of the crown. You stare quietly, studying the flowers, your thumb grazing over the petals gently.

_ “Momma! Why don’t we have more colors in the garden? Why are there only pink, blue, and purple?”  _ You remember asking your mother one day, as you helped her tend to the hydrangea lined outside the house. The garden had a myriad of other flowers, and vegetables, in it—but the hydrangea had always been your mother’s favorite. She cared for the flowers with as much dedication as she did her own daughters.

_ “Because. Those three mean the most important things,” your mother had told you, pointing to the flowers as she spoke about each one. “Pink stand for honest and heartfelt emotions. Blue for apologies. Purple for a desire to understand someone.” _

You blink, jostling yourself out of your own thoughts, glancing up at Sunwoo in surprise.

The smile that had been on his face moments before has disappeared, but the corner of his lips twitch, as though he can read your mind.

“There was a nice lady, that day that you let me watch you make the crown. She saw me later that day, working on mine, and asked if I knew what the flowers stood for,” as he speaks, Sunwoo gently pries the flower crown from your grasp. “I told her I didn’t, so she taught me the colors and their meanings. And then I chose the colors I wanted to continue with. She let me pick some from her garden. I ripped the previous colors out and started over.”

It takes every bit of self control to keep the surprise from plainly appearing on your face, but there’s a small smirk-smile on Sunwoo’s lips that seems to hint that he  _ already knows _ . Without saying anything more, he leans forward and places the crown back on your head, before letting out a soft, “ _ Oh, _ ” as he’s about to lean back.

“Hold still, there’s a leaf in your hair,” Sunwoo murmurs, shifting slightly to pick at your hair. You feel a small, very gentle tug against your scalp as he pulls it out. “Okay, got it.”

Hearing that it’s gone, you turn your head to thank him—just as Sunwoo leans back—both of you freezing once again at the proximity, your noses practically grazing each other.  _ Should have waited, _ you chastise yourself mentally, heart suddenly going into overdrive in your chest. The way your nerves react to his closeness has you too stunned to move, and Sunwoo doesn’t make any visible sign that he’s going to move either. You wonder if he will, almost feeling a need to hold your breath until he does so.

He studies you, brown eyes flickering along all the details of your face, before he’s suddenly tilting his head and erasing that last nose-breadth of length between you, his plush lips pressing against yours. You swear you let out a small sound of surprise from the back of your throat, swallowed by his kiss—yet despite the surprise, your eyes flutter closed, and you can’t help but marvel in the way his lips move against yours, soft and tender, and his fingertips play along the edge of your jawline where his hand had still been resting near your hair.

When Sunwoo pulls back, he immediately turns away, leaning back comfortably and eyeing the basket your sister had dropped off earlier. “Did you make us lunch?”

His sudden revert into a casual demeanor has a flush rising to your face, and you slap a hand over your mouth when a gasp falls from your lips. Sunwoo grins impishly, glancing at you with eyes alight with mischief. You cough into your hand, clearing your throat before pulling it away from your mouth and giving the flush on your cheeks a small wave.

Sunwoo chuckles next to you, not bothering to hide his amusement to your flustered reaction. You aren’t sure if that annoys you or otherwise, but you feel your stomach swirling again, the sound of his chuckle deep yet lighthearted.

_ Blooming, heartfelt emotions… _


End file.
